


Lost in the Multiverse

by TheTailor12



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Female Sam Wilson, Female Steve Rogers, Multi, Parallel Universes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Science Bros, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-10-16 05:32:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10564620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTailor12/pseuds/TheTailor12
Summary: “So you’re the James of this world.”New James scoffs, “James? You actually go by James? Look, over here people call me Bucky.”James grimaces like he’s personally offended. “Steve said his James goes by Bucky too.” His tongue seems to trip-up on the nickname, as though it’s left a terrible taste in his mouth. “What is that about? Who willingly walks around with a porn-star name?”A series of seemingly separate timelines which converge to reveal that there is more than one Steve Rogers, because there's more than one universe. The thing is, none of the Steves are where they're meant to be...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a quick read to remedy my writers block for 'All Hands on Deck', but then, just like the parallel universes, it spiralled out of control. Hope you all enjoy this, I look forward to revealing each 'Steve' character and how the story unfolds.  
> Comments welcome  
> Kudos appreciated x

When Steve returns to consciousness, his first barely-coherent thought is just how soft and silky the sheets feel against his sensitive skin. At that moment, he can’t quite remember purchasing such luxurious bedding but whatever the expense had been, it was totally worth it. Steve sleepily rolls over, loving the feel of the cloth wrapping around his skin, which is apparently more exposed than he remembers it being. In fact, he is pretty sure he is naked.

Wait…

What?

The blond super soldier shoots up into a sitting position, his mind immediately alert and his blue observant eyes wide open. He looks around the room and from the expensively minimalist décor, he quickly gathers that he is not in his bedroom, or even in his apartment. Upon hearing a quiet snuffle, Steve’s eyes land on some dark brown hair peeking out of a well-constructed bedding fortress. He freezes and his eyes get impossibly wider as a sickening sense of dread settles into his stomach. He slowly and silently reaches for the bedding around the puff of hair and peels it back to reveal none other than Tony Stark sleeping soundly beside him, appearing to also be in a state of undress. Steve blanches at the sight and hastily rips the soft silky covers away from his skin as though they have been drenched in acid. He stumbles out of the large bed, momentarily forgetting his own state of undress before desperately reaching for any possible article of clothing he can find. Meanwhile the super soldier’s mind races at over 200 miles per hour trying to make sense of the scene he has found himself in. He has just woken up naked in what is clearly Tony’s room, in his bed…

 _Oh God_ , did what he _thinks_ happened really, _actually_ happen? It couldn’t have! Never in a million years would he _ever_ -

“Steve?”

Steve barely hears the grouchy murmur as he’s distracted by his loud frantic mind and the zipper on the pair of jeans that he has yanked onto his body, which refuses to zip up, _please_ _lord zip up_.

“Woah, you in a rush there, buddy? I know we were pretty tired from that mission last night, but I didn’t think the sex was bad enough to make you wanna leave so fast you’ll risk slitting your dick in half with a zipper.”

Steve winces inwardly, not at the imagery of his dick being cut by the stupid zipper, but because Tony has just confirmed that yes, he has woken up naked in his bed because they had had sex the previous night. Except, _no way in hell_ did that happen because Steve would never, ever, _ever_ -

“Err… are you still mad about the mission? Is that it? Because I thought that we were all good after I’d sucked your anger through your cock.”

Steve is seriously close to throwing up, super soldier serum be damned. There is no way, no way on earth, or the moon or fucking Asgard that Steve would _ever_ let Tony anywhere _near_ his… What the fuck is going on?!

“What are you talking about? You didn’t- I would never!” Steve says somewhat hysterically.

“Okay… didn’t think you’d be one to hold a grudge. Especially after last year’s big debacle.” Instead of expanding on what exactly had happened ‘last year’, the brunette yawns and lazily gets out of the bed, letting the sheets fall away from his body confirming that, yes he is in fact completely naked and yes if what Tony is telling him is true, Steve is quite possibly the worst human being on the planet.

“Oh God, did we… have sex. Together? With each other?” His mind might be running at an impossible rate, but he cannot seem to form any coherent thoughts than can help him process what is happening.

Tony, who is still very naked, looks at Steve with a confused and somewhat affronted expression.

“Is this your way of trying to sweep this under the rug? ‘Cause if it is, then fuck you Steve. You were the one who insisted we quit fooling around and actually make us official. Now we get into one little fight, about something _you_ did by the way, and all of a sudden you’re looking at me like you’re disgusted to wake up beside me. Well, you already got what you wanted from me, why don’t you go ahead and fuck off.”

Now Tony is hastily getting dressed, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes so he is mostly ranting angrily at the floor. Steve knows Tony well enough to realise that he’s more upset and hurt than he is angry right now. The mere thought of _how_ he knows that and why this crazy scenario is so fucking messed up and down right impossible, forces Steve to walk up to Tony and take his wrist.

“Tony, you’ve gotta believe me when I say I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Tony snatches his wrist away, “Fine, neither do I! I have no fucking clue what I’m on about! I must be going fucking insane if I think Captain America would ever want to fuck me.”

“Tony, I’m not trying to fight you! I’m tellin’ you, we can’t have… slept together. I would never take advantage of you like that! You’re like a son to me Tony, I would never!”

“Like a son? Are you fucking with me Rogers?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair nervously because Tony is looking at him as though he’s grown three heads and he wants to slit each of Steve’s abnormal throats.

“I- I would never try and replace Howard, I know I never could, but… I care about you Tony and when he- when he was gone I swore to myself and to God or the universe or whatever, that I would take care of you. And this is not-“

“Wait, what? What are you talking about? What the fuck does Howard have to do with anything?”

The way Tony says his father’s name with such disdain alarms Steve and he begins to feel the muscles on his shoulder tense at the growing sense of unease. Something is not right here.

“Howard, your father, he asked me- he wanted me to take care of you…”

Tony’s eyes narrow and Steve can practically see the clogs working in his brain as he too begins to sense that something isn’t quite right.

“Right. So old Howard told you this in person?” He says, nonchalantly reaching down to pick up a t shirt that had been flung on the floor.

Steve decides to proceed with caution, mentally evaluating every word he says twice before letting it filter through his lips.

“Yes, your father was a good man, he only wanted what was best for you. I don’t think this, what happened last night, is it.” It’s a vague statement, which does not provide too much additional information than what has already been expressed, and it fits the situation. Espionage one-oh-one.

“Uh huh, yeah you’re right. We should probably forget it ever happened.”

Steve barely had enough time to mentally pat himself on the back before he spots Tony reaching for a weapon and quickly dives onto the brunette. Steve knocks away what looks like a repulsor gun, before locking Tony’s arms behind his back.

“Who are you really? Who are you working for, Hydra, AIM? Who?!”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y this a code red, white and blue. I seem to be dealing with a Cap impersonator.”

Suddenly a voice speaks up and it is decidedly feminine but disembodied, clearly not JARVIS but perhaps some other A.I. system that’s running this reconstruction of Tony’s home.

“Sir, I am afraid I’m going to have to ask you to remove yourself from Mr Stark and stay on the ground with your hands on your head.” The voice states calmly.

“Who are you working for?” Steve repeats to the impersonator, strengthening his hold on the man’s forearms.

“I’m self-employed.” He murmurs before falling to the ground, pulling Steve along with him and giving the A.I. access to his back. Steve is immediately pelted with what feel like a shower of stun darts.  Within moments, he feels his muscles weaken and his vision blurs and it’s not long before he has fallen unconscious.

 

* * *

 

“There’s no evidence to suggest that the tower’s security feeds have been tampered with. F.R.I.D.A.Y hasn’t reported any anomalies in last night’s activity and the biologists in the med bay both confirmed that he’s Steve, or rather, he has Steve’s exact DNA.” Natasha slumps onto the chair in the interrogation room just outside of Cell K.

Tony turns to face her and registers the worry in her eyes underneath layers of controlled professionalism. There is always something seriously unnerving about seeing the Black Widow show signs of fear.

“It’s not Steve. The things he said… It can’t be him.”

“He sure looks like Steve. A little older maybe. By like, 10 years max.”

Tony looks down at Captain America impersonator lying on the metal framed bed of Cell K, just as unconscious as he was three hours ago. Clint is right. If this man truly is just an impersonator, his likeness to Steve Rogers is uncanny. From his hair’s shade of muted blond with dark roots, to his razor-sharp cheekbones and full pouty lips. He even had the exact same body shape, except this guy seems to fill out Steve’s jeans a little more. Tony can also see that indeed; this man appears to be slightly older. He has more fine lines around his eyes and forehead, and his skin doesn’t seem quite as taut around his pectoral muscles.

“He’s not Steve.” Tony mumbles after his evaluation of the man before him. “But if he’s Fake Steve, then where the hell is real Steve?”

“We already went through last night’s security feeds from your whole floor. ” Clint says.

“There aren’t any from my room, we’re not particularly into voyeurism while we-“

“Yeah okay, gotcha.” The archer interrupts hastily.

 “Maybe…” Natasha cautiously starts, aware that choosing her words carefully is crucial if she hopes to prevent a counter-productive argument. “Maybe we’ve been going about this all wrong. What if this is Steve’s body, but someone’s been playing mind tricks with him?”

Tony frowns, considering the possibility that Steve’s mind has been played with. Perhaps it was the beam of blue light that he’d jumped into to save that kid in yesterday’s mission. Tony had shot straight into the light himself to save Steve who was holding the dishevelled black-haired child whose big green eyes had been filled with tears. Afterwards, they had been cleared by the in-house doctors who’d done multiple scans and tests on them, including analysing brain activity. Tony had been so thankful and relieved that the worst that he and Steve had to worry about was a few scrapes and cuts and a headache after the hour-long shouting match that proceeded as soon as they had reached Tony’s floor.

But what if the effects of the beam just had not kicked in the previous night? They didn’t even know what the device they’d found in the HYDRA bunker actually did.

“I think we should do some CT and fMRI scans, maybe inject him with a truth serum and ask him a few questions.” Natasha continues once she gets a glimpse of acceptance in Tony’s eye.

“But even if his mind was manipulated, that wouldn’t explain the physical differences. Clint was right, he does look older, and his body isn’t the same.”

The red-haired assassin raised a brow at that last comment, to which Tony merely responded with an eye roll.

“Trust me, I know Real Steve’s body, and that guy ain’t wearing it.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out what this guy knows when he wakes up. FRIDAY, get the truth serum ready.” Natasha’s eyes travel towards the muscular body in the cell. “Make it a double dose.” She mumbles under her breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we meet another Steve stuck in another universe... needless to say it's very different to the one he's used to.  
> It's a short insight into what's going on in one of the parallel universes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter ready for your reading pleasure :)   
> Hope you all enjoy, drop me some kudos/comments if you do x

Steve is in what is quite possibly the most excruciating pain he has ever experienced. He tries hard to locate where this searing pain is coming from, but it is hopeless. Steve’s mind is incapable of processing any thoughts or sensations other than the blinding agony he feels in his body. Steve does not even know where he is, his eyes are screwed shut and all he can see are the dark red insides of his eyelids which are decorated with blue, yellow and magenta lightning bolts. He wants to scream, but his jaw is clenched together and if he opens his mouth, he knows he will not stop screaming until his throat is raw.

“Where is the bloody physician?! We need him to cauterise his wound or he will bleed to death!” A voice bellows from somewhere above him. The voice sounds raspy and feminine, but the striking tone of desperate urgency overrides his growing sense of familiarity.

“You are going to be alright. You will dust this off and be on your way to some pompous feast in the morrow, I swear it, Your Majesty.” The voice seems to have come closer to Steve’s ear and he feels the soft touch of lips on his cheek.

Steve does not have the mental capacity to process the archaic English, and instead tries to focus on keeping his mouth clamped shut to lock the screams inside his broken body, whilst at the same time trying not to clench his jaw so forcefully that he grinds his teeth to dust. In the end all of his efforts are for naught because a man, Steve assumes he is the ‘physician’, soon makes his presence known. The physician’s voice is gentle and his tone regretful as he pries Steve’s mouth open and before a single sound leaves his lips, the stranger stuffs his mouth with a soft fabric that he promptly bites down on when his jaw is released.

In the state that he is in, it does not occur to the World War Two veteran what is about to come next. Suddenly all he can feel is something that can only be described as white-hot. Steve’s screams are muffled by the cloth and somewhere in the back of his mind he registers some pressure on his wrists and ankles which restrict his movement. For an undeterminable amount of time, Steve is forced to lay still, in absolute anguish as the world around him is engulfed by the smell of burning flesh.

It is not long before he passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another Steve wakes up to a very strange circumstance... but this Steve isn't quite the Steve we are familiar with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I left you guys hanging for longer than I expected, I present you with another, longer chapter :)  
> Hope you enjoy, drop me some kudos/comments if you do! x

Stephanie Grace Rogers is no stranger to near-death experiences. In fact, considering her line of work, she is often more concerned when she feels safe and secure. She is always suspect of the small, quiet moments in her life that are few and far between, and always seem to lead to a major shit show. Like the calm before the storm. However, waking up in a pile of rubble in the middle of what appears to be a war zone in the capital of an eastern European country – Bulgaria? Romania? Hungary?- is the last thing Stephanie thought she would be doing this weekend. Especially because she never ‘sleeps on the job’, so to speak. It’s mostly due to her foolhardy hard-headedness and stupidly impossible durability, that she has never been knocked into unconsciousness during a mission. What is even more surprising is that she cannot seem to remember how she got here. Nor can she remember who rendered her unconscious in the first place.

After the initial vertigo, Stephanie musters up as much energy she can from her aching muscles and forces herself up. A quick scan of the street names and road signs tells her that she is in Sofia, which is decidedly different from New York, where she could have sworn she had been lying around, recovering from a particularly rough spar a few moments ago…

She can hear gunfire and explosions and men yelling demands over blow horns in their native tongue. Distressed citizens are running away from the scene occurring mere yards away from her. There is a disturbing number of young children being clutched by adults as they run for dear life.

Stephanie may not know how she got here, but she immediately knows what she needs to do.

Ignoring the protests of her fatigued muscles, she runs towards the building that is being held hostage by what looks like a rebel troop. Stephanie cannot quite decipher the foreign language, but she surmises that the building is a children’s hospital and some of the patients are still inside, being held captive. The police have formed a human barricade to prevent the rebels from penetrating further into the city, but they are faced with a small army of rebels who are guarding the hospital walls as their leader bellows his commands.

With the attack being so deliberately public and Stephanie not knowing exactly how she got here, she decides to go stealth mode. Lurking in the shadows, the super soldier is quick to disarm two rebel soldiers out of sight from the main confrontation. She takes their guns, knives and hand grenades; she wishes she had her shield, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Still, she is looking out for a glint of vibranium metal amongst the rubble just in case it does make an appearance. Stephanie, lingers in the shadows, silently and efficiently taking out combatants, two at a time. When she finally enters the building through a discreet fire exit, she is not remotely prepared for what she sees.

Bodies.

So many of them drenched in blood and strewn across the floor as though they were knocked down like bowling pins. Some of them have on nurse or doctors’ uniforms, whilst others are in plain clothes. Every one of them have the surprise and fear still etched into their features.

Stephanie does not know what angers her more; the sight of these innocent people lying dead on the floor of a children’s hospital, or the aching in her salivary glands that the smears of red and the pungent smell of iron causes within her.

She has enough anger for both.

The soldier navigates her way around the corridors following the faint cries and shouting she can hear from the hostages and their captors. Stephanie wonders how the police could have let the death toll get so high in the first place, and why they have not stormed through the terrorists and saved the people in the building. That is, until she reaches the room where the captives are being kept.

There are bombs everywhere. Some have been strapped onto innocent children and health workers, whilst others are attached to the columns of the building. She does not have access to the whole scene and getting closer would reveal her presence, something she does not wish to do without having formed a proper plan of attack. Stephanie is not a bomb expert, but purely based on the sheer size and number of these devices, she knows that this is bad. Like, really bad. Way worse than Prague two years ago, and that had been the ultimate shit-storm. To make matters worse, Stephanie suddenly realises that there are no other Avengers on the scene. There is just one Avenger; singular. She’s alone.

Shit, where is everyone else?

Stephanie tries not to panic from her precarious position behind a column, and instead focuses on the number of different footsteps and heartbeats she can hear in the room. The different tread of each person’s feet and the flittering speeds of the heartbeats belonging to the terrified hostages enable to Stephanie to identify twelve terrorists and nine hostages, six of which are children. Her mind begins to create a plan of attack and despite the fact that she knows she will need to be incredibly careful as the odds are stacked against her, the super-soldier still revels in the sensation of adrenaline flooding through her veins.

From the glimpse that she got of the room, she was able to see a closet that has been hijacked and converted into some sort of control room which holds a cluster of laptops which have stark white detonation codes on their dark blue screens. Stephanie knows that the control room is her target. If she has any hope of getting these people out of the hospital alive, not in body bags, without setting off enough bombs to destroy the city, she needs to somehow disable the activation codes. Stephanie, who is a former World War Two veteran and not a billionaire tech genius, has no idea how she is supposed to achieve this. But that is not her main concern at the moment.

Stephanie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. The next moments are a flurry of gun shots, kicks and punches. Urgent commands are being given through walkie-talkies and by the fifth captor that she takes out, the bullets embedded into various parts of her body, stop being an annoyance and start being an actual, debilitating problem. She’s onto number six when another combatant sneaks up on her from behind and shocks her within an inch of her life. Stephanie falls to the ground, the electricity searing through her veins and leaving her nerves overstimulated and scorched. She tries to move, but she can barely feel her own body and her commands are not reaching her central nervous system.

Stephanie feels herself losing consciousness for the second time that day. The last thing she sees is a pair of black hiking boots and she vaguely hears gun shots being fired in quick succession before the head of the combatant that electrocuted her falls beside her on the ground. His parted lips let out a stream of crimson and his vacant stare bores into her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finds some answers to the questions Tony has been asking, but the billionaire doesn't like what he's hearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break in updates! I'd like to say a massive thank you to everyone who is reading and enjoying the story so far. Thank you so much for your lovely comments and kudos! x

“Well, I’ve got some good-ish news, some really crappy news and some… err… migraine-inducing phenomena.”

The genius’ hands fall from the holographic screens and he takes in a deep breath.

“Shit. Ok, give me the crappy news first…” Tony says, nervously crossing his arms because he really does not know what to do with his hands at the moment.

“Actually-“ He interrupts as Bruce’s mouth opens, “Let’s start with the good-ish stuff.

Bruce removes his glasses and cleans it with the bottom of his shirt which, _yeah,_ not a good sign.

“The guy in Cell K is definitely Steve Rogers.”

Tony is about to interrupt with explanations to how that is physically impossible, but Bruce merely holds his hand up to stop him.

“Hold on, it gets better.” The scientist points towards the DNA sequence on his holographic display.

“His DNA is the same but like Clint said, this guy seems to be older.”

“You think the blast aged him over night?”

Bruce shakes his head, “There would have been biological signs of rapid cell degeneration. Due to the gene expression process of methylation, forensics was able to approximate this Steve’s physical age. Tony, this Steve is actually thirty years older than our Steve, give or take a five-year margin of error.”   

Tony’s hands fall to his sides, and without even consciously commanding his movements, he finds himself reading over the file on the screen. The words are there, and the science is sound, but he cannot quite believe it. How could Steve had _gradually_ aged thirty years overnight?!

“Well his DNA suggests it wasn’t overnight. The gene expression hasn’t been accelerated in any way. This guy is actually thirty-years older than our Steve.”

Bruce’s answer makes Tony realise two things; firstly, that he had asked that question out loud even though he could not even remember opening his mouth, and secondly-

“Why do you keep saying ‘our’ and ‘this’ Steve?”

Bruce clicks his tongue ruefully and put his glasses back on. A series of hand gestures on the screen brings up a new page with a full body analysis of the man in Cell K. Tony is not a radiation expert like Bruce is, but what he is seeing seems to suggest…

“Another dimension?! You think this guy, this Steve, is from _another dimension_?!”

“Yeah, that’s the phenomena bit.” Bruce is staring dazedly at the screen, not quite believing what he is seeing himself. But it is the only explanation that makes sense. This ‘Steve Rogers’ has identical DNA, he looks like Steve, sounds like Steve and from his immediate distrust of Tony, he may even have the same career path as Steve. Except, his cells are older and he is emitting electromagnetic waves of a different frequency.

“We’re going to need to question him, see what he knows.”

“Natasha is already on it, she hit him with a truth serum as soon as he woke up.” Tony mumbles. “So if this is the phenomena, then I guess I already know the bad news.”

Bruce forces himself to pull away from his awestruck daze, and he faces Tony with a look of hesitant determination on his face.

“We’ll find him Tony. We will get to the bottom of this.”

 

* * *

 

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Steve Grant Rogers.”

The red-haired woman, which he refuses to identify as Natasha, stares straight into his eyes.

“Is that the name you were given at birth?”

“Yes, it is. Where am I, what am I doing here?”

“You don’t know where you are right now?”

Steve frowns, frustrated by her calm, composed demeanour. He knows this is Natasha’s supreme interrogation technique working at his nerves, but he never thought he would find himself on the receiving end of this. And this woman, who cannot possibly be the real Natasha, has perfected her impersonation of her, so much so that he is starting to question what he thinks, _what he knows_ , to be true.

“No, I don’t. I don’t know who you are either, but I know who you’re trying to be.”

The woman stares at him blankly, but Steve knows this face so he can see the subtle lift of the brow as she processes the information he’s just given her.

“So you think I’m the one pretending?” She asks, sliding closer to him across the table which he has been locked to. The table is solid metal and bolted to the ground. He can’t move it in his weakened state; he already tried.

“Yes, you can’t be Natasha, it’s impossible. You must be an impersonator.”

“How can you be so sure I’m not Natasha?” She’s even closer now. Steve’s superior eyesight means he can see every line and freckle on her face, the random streaks of blond in her fiery hair, the dull grey tones that dim the green of her eyes. He could see it all in high definition, even if she was on the other side of the room. But she’s not; she’s a mere ruler’s length away from him and all he wants to do is turn away because he knows she isn’t real.

Steve looks her straight in the eyes, “Natasha’s dead.” The woman’s blank exterior falters and she backs away ever so slightly.

“You really think that’s true? You really think I- she’s dead?”

“I know it’s true, because I watched her die, right in front of me. He was fast, strong and deadly, like nothing I’ve ever seen before… I wasn’t fast enough to save her. There were so many people, these civilians who needed to be saved and I- I got distracted. But he didn’t, and the next thing I knew… I’d lost another person in my life.” Steve can feel the information flowing freely out of his lips and he knows it isn’t entirely of his own volition; he has probably been given a truth serum. But the guilt and the misery is still there, serum or no.

“Who was the man that killed Natasha?” she asks, her voice quieter and raspier.

“They call him the Winter Soldier. He’s not a man, he’s a machine.”

“Do you know where the Winter Solider is?”

Steve clenches his jaw and grits his teeth. “No.” He spits out. “But when I find him, I’m going to kill him.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you lovelies! I hope you enjoy it!   
> Drop me some comments, let me know if you've figured out which Steve belongs to each world as new universes emerge in the story! x

When Steve regains consciousness, it takes him a moment to remember what had happened. When he does remember, he almost screams on instinct because the pain he had experienced when he was last awake had been like no other. Even being hit by gamma rays when the serum was melded into his DNA did not compare. The pain is still there, lodged between his ribs, and he knows getting up will be an issue, but now his mind is clear enough to focus on some other important things.

Like, where the hell is he?

He is lying in a bed, a huge four poster structure covered in animal furs which are smooth when he runs his hand down them but a little scratchy when he moves his hands the opposite way. Lying on his back he can only see the ceiling which is beautiful with gold leaf panelling and meticulous floral carvings. He can also smell - well first of all _himself_ , which isn’t great- but there is also a distinct floral and herb scent which is blanketing the room and not quite succeeding in masking the smell of damp, flesh and smoke. It reminds him of how all of his surroundings smelled like back in the 40s, before every place was filled with the smell of the artificial chemical concoctions of the twenty-first century.

Steve slowly pushes himself up, taking in more of the extravagant room and not quite believing what he is seeing. What drugs have they given him? There is a knock at the door which is heavy and loud, and seconds later two men are walking into the room; one carrying a ceramic pot and another holding an armful of primitive bathing supplies.

“Your Majesty!” Upon seeing Steve sitting up in the middle of the huge bed, both men bow hastily, and Steve doesn’t stop them because at this point a part of him thinks he is still dreaming.

“Your Majesty we apologise for the intrusion, we were just coming in to prepare your bath.”

“Yes Sire,” The other man says “we are delighted to see you have awoken. The entire realm has been worried about your health, wishing for your steadfast recovery. The nuns were here twice yesterday, saying their prayers.”

Steve looks at both men, they are slim and dressed in some kind of matching medieval uniform and they will not look him in the eye as they speak; they’re heads are still tilted downwards at an awkward almost-bow angle.

Something is definitely off here.

“I’m going to need you to rewind a little bit. Who are you and where am I?” Steve says as calmly as he possibly can because this isn’t the first time he’s woken up in another world. Still, he has already scouted all possible exit routes and performed a discreet weapons search on these men. Luckily, they aren’t armed with anything but cleaning cloths and a chamber pot.

“Your Majesty, we are your loyal servants, I am John and he is Henry we live to serve you, the King of the most treasured land of Vindicia.”

“Oh... right. Yes.” Steve is nodding his head and his voice has hitched up a few octaves because he is now pretty sure this is just pain medication making him delirious, but just in case it isn’t, he is not going to blow his cover.

It is not long before the men, his servants apparently, begin to bustle around him, changing the sheets which have been bloodied from his wound and taking him to an adjacent room with a large stain glass window streaming in coloured light, spotlighting the bathtub in the middle of the room. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening the men are undressing him and-

“Oh! Err, I think I can take it from here thank you.” The blond grips onto the linen trousers that he has been inexplicably dressed in. John had already removed his stained shirt, he wants to preserve at least a little of his modesty, even though if this is real, his ‘servants’ probably already saw him naked when they dressed him in the old-fashioned night clothes. _Oh god_ , Steve really needs to find out what’s going on.

“But your majesty, we have been ordered to bathe you so that you are ready to receive the Court this morrow.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, can I please have a moment to myself before this, err… court meeting?”

John glances at Henry who kind of froze in position when Steve stopped him from reaching for his trousers.  

“Of course your Majesty, we will leave out your garments for the day. The tailors have created several pieces during your absence in the castle, I trust they will be to your Majesty’s liking.”

“Yeah, that’s err, that’s great thanks!” Steve’s eagerness to get the men to leave may have just made him look suspicious. They glance at each other quickly but they don’t speak, merely bowing and leaving the room. Steve has been left on his own again and his mind is filled with all kinds of thoughts. Last he remembered he had been falling asleep by Tony’s side, in Tony’s room in Avengers Tower. Now he is in a bathtub, soaking in warm water with floating lavender and a couple of pomanders; Tony and Avenger’s Tower nowhere in sight.

His wound is slowly turning the water pink and with his entire body exposed, he can see that his ribs are not the only place he has been wounded. He can feel the water sting at several cuts and openings, but none of them are as bad as the hole in his torso. He needs to find out how he got here and he needs to figure out how to get back. The super-soldier’s eyes land on the chamber pot Henry left at the corner of the room and a jolt of horror courses through him.

He needs to get back fast.

 

* * *

 

 

“Your majesty, on behalf of the lords of the court, I would like to say how well you look. We are glad to have you return to your daily duties.”

The man in front of Steve has seemingly appeared out of nowhere whilst he had been distracted, taking in the grand hall that he had been ushered into by his guards. Yes, guards; apparently, that is also a _thing_ now. The man’s head is bowed and he refuses to look Steve in the eye, much like everyone else he has spoken to.

“Firstly, if Your Majesty would so please, we would discuss the issue of Hydrania’s pillaging of the East lands. Local authorities have counted fifty-seven households which have been affected; either burned down or emptied of all they are worth!”

“Hydrania.” Steve says as calmly as possible because he’s really trying not to blow his cover, but at the same time his sanity can only take so much.

“Yes Sire, the filthy clutches of their reach is spreading throughout Vindicia every moment of the day. Thankfully we will be having an audience with King Anthony of Pecunia come tomorrow, although I suspect by the time we have indulged the King in his hedonistic ways, it will be twilight when we first begin serious discussions of our plan of action.” The comment is followed by several ‘here-here’s by men in the stands, but Steve barely hears them because he’s starting to wonder if this King Anthony is this world’s version of his very own Tony Stark. It’s a crazy leap, but over the course of his extended life he has learnt not to rule anything out of the realm of possibility. Steve begins to test out his theory by scanning through the court in search of some familiar faces.

Bingo.

Sitting first in line on the Knight’s bench is a pale man with fiery red hair and eerily familiar green eyes. Though his facial features are soft, he sports a hefty beard and sits straight and rock solid throughout the entire meeting with the Council. When it comes to an end, Steve, as discreetly as possible, request to have an audience with the knight in private. It turns out the knight’s name is Sir _Nathaniel_. Steve probably isn’t as insane as he thought he was when he woke up earlier.

“Can we go to my room, I need somewhere private to talk.” Steve tries to put on his best kingly voice to offset the strange request. They both begin to walk side by side towards his chambers, which is strange because everyone else seemed to merely trail behind him. Sir Nathaniel is also standing pretty close to Steve which no one else in this castle had dared to do.

“We will not have much time, Your Majesty. I have heard word that your fiancée has left the Carter Manor and is on her way to greet you.” Nathaniel responds. Steve immediately recognises his voice as the one he heard from above him when he had first suffered the injury.

“My fiancée is coming?” Steve says dumbly, because it would be even more dumb to ask _how_ exactly he is engaged to _anyone_.

“Yes, she was devastated to hear of your condition. She would have been here sooner had the troops of Hydrania not destroyed the East Land bridge.” Nathaniel eyes wonder around the hall, refusing to meet Steve’s, and at first Steve fears it’s because they are going the wrong way and he has managed to get lost in the maze that is the hallways of the castle. Then it occurs to him that no one has looked him in the eye since he woke up, so perhaps it’s a ‘him being King thing’. But Nathaniel’s jaw is clenched and his eyes are narrowed ever so slightly, the way Natasha’s look when she is secretly livid.

They finally reach the King’s chambers and after a young woman hastily drops the cloth she was using to clean the room and leaves, Steve and Nathaniel are alone in the room and before a single word can leave Steve’s lips, he finds himself kissing the red-haired knight. He’s ashamed to admit it, considering the fact that he is in a dedicated relationship with Tony, but it takes him about twenty-seconds after his initial shock to actually pull away from the kiss. But he’s only human, and the kiss is passionate and deep and _clearly not for him_.

Lost in his own thoughts, Steve doesn’t notice the man stripping down before him until Nathaniel takes off his beard and is no longer Nathaniel at all.

“I reckon we have two hours before Lady Carter arrives.”

Nathaniel… Natasha-it has to be Natasha- hooks _her_ arms around Steve once more and pulls him for another kiss which fortunately he is quicker at putting a stop to. Holding her at arms’ length and examining her face, Steve can tell that she is not his Natasha. She’s much taller and more muscular which makes sense because she is a knight and all; just wearing the armour looks like a serious work out.

“You’re not a man!” Steve exclaims, because it has been one surprise after the other and he can’t take it anymore goddammit!

Fake Natasha stares at him like he has just grown two heads; he’s probably blown is cover, but he has to get some kind of explanation for what the hell is going on.

“Your Majesty, this is hardly a revelation, I told you who I was many moons ago. Are you sure you are alright, you’re looking rather pale.”

Steve juggles around with some options in his head before making a decision that could cost him his life.

“Can you remind me who you are? Please, just humour me.”

She looks confused, but perhaps out of the sheer obligation she feels towards her king, she answers.

“I am Natalie of the West Lands, the woman who you claimed was your true love.”

Ah.

“Oh… well Natalie err, here’s the thing...”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into yet another world in the multi-verse as another Steve finds himself desperate to get back home, where Tony Stark is just a rich guy and not a superhero...  
> Sorry for the long wait, exams and all that jazz, I really hope you enjoy this chapter, feel free to drop some kudos if you did x

“So… am I gonna be your best man?”

Steve looks up from the board, the question having startled him out of his chess induced-reverie.

“Huh?”

Buck- _James_ , rolls his eyes.

“Am I your best man? You said we know each other in your world, right?”

After a pause, Steve clears his throat and draws his eyes back to the board. “Well, we more than know each other in my world…”

“Yeah?” James probes

“You’re kinda my brother… adoptive... but err, yh.”

James’ brows shoot up to his forehead. “Really? So, we’re family in your world?”

Steve nods absently then finally moves his knight. James looks down at the board and makes a move within seconds, stealing Steve’s castle from right underneath his nose. Steve curses under his breath. _How is he so fucking good?_

“Were you adopted, or was it just me? Or… I mean him, Bucky.”

“We were both adopted, but our parents died in a car crash. Drunk driver.” 

Steve looks back down at the board, this time to avoid James’ eyes. The accident was seven years ago, Steve has moved on with his life, but the pain is still there and the loss hurts every once and a while. Especially now, when he’s facing a man who looks and sounds like his brother. It hurts to even look at James, because he’s not Bucky, not matter how much Steve wishes he was.

The man in question has gone quiet, Steve briefly glances up to see him holding the soda can halfway to his lips, seemingly frozen in place as a look of sorrow overcomes his features.

“Oh man, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Steve’s fingers hover above his knight, before changing his mind in the last moment and moving his castle, taking Buck- _James’_ knight. James doesn’t comment on it, just makes his next move. He only gets away with a pawn this time.

“It’s ok, was a long time ago.” Steve murmurs, “Anyway, to answer your question, Bucky and I haven’t spoken in six years. I haven’t seen him since the funeral.”

“Wow, he took it pretty bad huh?”

“Yeah, he was in a bad place at the time and when it happened... I guess he felt like everything was collapsing on top of him. I wanted to be there for him. I tried to be, but…” Steve trails off and rubs a hand over his face in frustration. After a couple of moments in silence, James’ speaks up.

“Ok so Bucky is a no-show for now. Who is coming to the wedding?”

Despite the sting from newly reopened wounds, Steve chuckles quietly. “I haven’t even proposed yet. I don’t know if Sam’s gonna say yes.”

James rolls his eyes in a very Bucky way. “Look, it sounds like this doll really loves you, I’m sure she’ll say yes. Why wouldn’t she?”

Steve raises a brow at Buck- _James_ _dammit_. “You don’t even know Sam, or me for that matter. I hope she’ll say yes, but family is really important to her, and her family hates my guts.”

James scoffed, “Nah, who could hate a little rascal like you?”

“Her mom, quite passionately I might add.”

“Well look, even if that were true, which I doubt it is, you guys are gonna have your own family, and that’s all that really matters.”

Steve sighs and sacrifices his castle in order to give his knight an opening. James takes the bait, though Steve has no doubt that he is still ten steps ahead of him. Still, this is the longest match they’ve had, Steve’s quite proud of that achievement.

“That’s how I feel, because I didn’t grow up in a big family with ten aunties and uncles and fifty cousins. But Sam did, and as much as I love her and wanna be with her, I can’t take her away from that.”

“You’re a good guy, Steve.” The blond shrugs self-deprecatingly.

“I mean, you suck at chess but...”

“Hey!” Steve exclaims, just as James deftly moves his king and-

“Checkmate.”

Steve scowls at the brunette’s smirk, but before he has the chance to demand a rematch, Tony Stark, who Steve still can’t think of on a first name basis, strides in with his usual effortless swagger.

“Ok boys, pack up the kiddie games, I’ve got an update on our other-worldly friend here.”

……..

“We got some kind of transmission. It’s similar to the kind of thing Thor uses to get in contact with us, but this wasn’t from outer space- at least not from _our_ outer space.”

Steve stares at the lines and circles on the holo-screen blankly. He’s not a scientist, in fact he was pretty shit at science in high school, so this is all Greek to him. Tony is rattling on about cross-dimensional bridges at a hundred miles per minute and all Steve can think is: _well, this is just great_. Only he could find himself in a parallel universe where he isn’t a he, but rather a _she_ , and is a part of a world-saving superhero team called the Avengers who fight evil or something. _Of course_ this would happen to him.

Two weeks has passed since the day when he’d found himself in a Whole New World. It had been a pretty ordinary day. Steve had been in a rush to get to the jewellers to pick up Sam’s ring before his viewing with some potential clients who were interested in buying his art. The morning rush had meant he hadn’t had the chance to take his daily cocktail of vitamins. So he wasn’t too surprised when, after a lapse in consciousness, he found himself on the floor of a high tech lab. It was then that he was introduced to the famously infamous Tony Stark, who in his world was a technological god and the primary competitor of Wayne Enterprises and Hammer Tech.

The first few days were tough. They locked him up at first, and though he fought them at every turn, it was a hopeless cause; these guys were _superheroes_ after all. They took his DNA, made him answer some personal questions using what Steve was convinced was a truth serum. When the test results came in and they’d established that Steve Rogers had almost identical genes to their _Stephanie_ , he was let out of (surely illegal) imprisonment and left to roam around Avengers tower while the scientists, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, who was certainly not his high school physics teacher, tried to figure out where _Stephanie_ was.

Seeing Buck- _James_ for the first time had been a shock. There was this huge man whose muscles had seemingly been carved out of stone, he was beautiful, painfully so and his striking metal arm never ceased to draw Steve’s attention. Every time he saw James, Steve found a new feature to admire, and his fingers itched for a pencil to complete his portrait of James ‘not-Bucky’ Barnes.

Meeting Sam had been an even bigger shock. Steve had merely been drawing in the common room when this tall, dark-skinned, muscular god had walked in with heavy travel bags in each hand and a blinding smile on his face. His dark, kind, familiar eyes had drawn Steve in. Funnily enough, Steve’s initial reaction had been to guess that this man was this world’s version of his beautiful, kind and intelligent girlfriend Samantha Wilson, who was five months pregnant with their child. Then he had ridded the thought from his mind and dismissed it as insane. Turns out, he’d been right. It was a strange experience, getting to know Sam and recognising the similarities between him and Samantha, as well as noticing the clear differences. Like the fact that Sam was a superhero and Samantha, while mighty in her own way, hadn’t quite reached superhero status in her term as a junior doctor.

As for the rest of the Avengers, some of them he had recognised, like Tony Stark, Mr please-call-me-Bruce Banner and of course Clint who was this world’s version of one of Steve’s oldest and dearest friends. He even recognised Maria Hill who was working for Stark Enterprises on this world, but in his world, was one of Sam’s closest work friends. It was pretty trippy. But after the initial ‘ooh and ahh’ of the situation, the panic and horror of having been plopped into a foreign world settled in and Steve wanted, no _needed_ to find answers for how the hell this even happened.

“What does this mean for me, this transmission?” Steve asks, steering the direction back to the main issue.

“It means, Stevie, that someone out there in an alternate reality may be trying to communicate with us, two weeks after you’ve been misplaced in the wrong universe. Coincidence? We think not.”

“So you know how I can get back?” Steve asks.

Tony pauses, which is worrying in itself because in the two weeks Steve has been here he’s realised that Tony Stark doesn’t have an off switch, so pausing simply does not happen.

“Steve, we’re working on a way to bring you back using a more advanced form of teleportation but this, this type of technology is beyond us-“

“We have the ability to get there, obviously.” Tony chips in somewhat haughtily.

“But it would take years, decades even.” Bruce finishes. He too pauses, taking off his glasses and cleaning the lenses with his shirt.

“That’s not the only thing.” He continues mildly, “You’re from an alternate reality, a completely different universe where the rules of physics are different. Time is different. Even if you were to stay here for years until we figured this out, there’s no telling how slow or fast time is moving in your world. It could be that when you get back only one minute has passed or maybe ten years.”

Steve blanches and he feels like he is either going to be sick with worry or faint in panic. What if he never returns to his world? What if he never gets to hold his child in his arms, or kiss Sam, or take Clint’s dog on a walk, or talk to his estranged adoptive-brother again? Or _worse_ , what if he does get back to his world, but it is a hundred years into the future?

“Steve,” Sam places a strong, yet gentle arm around the blonde’s shoulders which grounds him and overcomplicates his already complicated feelings towards not-his-Sam. “No need to panic, we’re gonna figure out what the hell is going on, get you home to your girlfriend and get Steph back here. We’re the Avengers, dealing with crazy shit is kinda our thing.”

Steve nods absently at Sam’s words. The events of the past fortnight have shown him that yeah, the Avengers deal with all kinds of ‘crazy shit’ from their universe, like the giant serpent that was unleashed from the earth’s core last Friday, and he had turned out to be an ally!

Still, all the crazy shit they deal with is from _their_ universe, making Steve the craziest of shits that has landed on their plate so far. Yet, Sam’s voice settles him; his heart rate decreases and his shoulders relax. Sam just has that effect on him; apparently that’s his real superpower. He’s kind of awesome, and Steve, despite being totally straight, is guiltily low-key in love with him.

“Look, in the meantime, let’s go back upstairs and set up another game. I promise I’ll take it even easier on ya.” James says with a half-hearted smirk, steering Steve away from the lab.

“If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, you call me back in here. And if you find a way to maybe… I don’t know, see Sam, or talk to her-“

Tony’s eye light up at Steve’s plea and he begins to mumble to himself. “Oooh trans-universal communication! Maybe we can use research from the Rainbow Bridge Project to reverse-engineer how to communicate with worlds beyond our universe… If the technology in his world would permit it…”

Bruce smiles ruefully at Steve, “We won’t stop and until we get you back home, Steve. You have my word.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A direct continuation of the previous chapter, couldn't leave you guys hanging, especially since it's been a while. Hope you enjoy, kudos and comments are much appreciated x

When they receive no response from the cross-dimensional transmission they sent out, the room is filled with palpable disappointment.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with the receiver…” Tony mutters, utterly frustrated.

“Maybe the message hasn’t been received yet, we don’t know how many lightyears away this parallel universe is. It could take weeks, or even years for them to receive the message.” Bruce states calmly from behind the bright screens decorated with complicated sci-fi math.

Tony tugs at his hair and exhales harshly. “We don’t have time for weeks or lightyears. We need Steve back, like, _yesterday_.”

“And we’ll get him back, we were able to achieve all of this in a matter of weeks Tony. Trans-dimensional communication; it’s incredible!” Bruce exclaims, once again admiring the glowing numbers and symbols.

“None of it matters if Steve is stuck alone in some, unknown parallel universe. We have to find him, he’s gotta come back here an-“

“Tony, calm down.” Steve reaches out to hesitantly put a hand on the distraught scientist’s shoulder. Tony doesn’t flinch like he has whenever Steve has previously touched him, whether by accident or as a reflexive reaction to seeing him in emotional distress. Steve keeps having to remind himself, that this man who is so bright and broken, is not his Tony Stark. He looks just like his Tony, speaks and acts just like him too, but he’s not him. He’s too broken to be. Steve can’t help but think that this is who Tony may have become had he not been there to pick up the pieces of his broken home after Howard and Maria’s death.

“We’ll find your Steve, everything is going to be okay.” It’s not his most convincing reassurance, but the scientist visibly relaxes, even if he does remain silent which is quite unsettling for any Tony Stark.

Suddenly an alarm rings throughout the floor and FRIDAY is reporting a ‘supernatural disturbance’ in DC. This isn’t the first time the Avengers have had to suit up since Steve got to this world, but the footage on the screens show an impending disaster that he can’t just sit back on his hunches and let happen.

“Count me in.”

Natasha looks at him with narrow eyes, before making a decision and throwing something at him. It’s a card, each Avenger has one, this must belong to their Steve.

“His room’s on the sixty-ninth floor. One of Tony’s wacky jokes.”

Steve looks down at the card and nods. “I’ll see you at the meeting point.”

The red-head nods back and as she turns to leave, she says “Don’t forget to stretch, old man.”

* * *

 

They’re fighting huge ugly beasts who have six fat, muscular limbs that destroy everything in their path and a tough outer-skin that can withhold the bullets from Natasha’s favourite gun. Thing is, they’re breath is incredibly pungent, and apparently very flammable. Which is great, in terms of defeating them, but not great for the Capital’s landmarks or breathable air. Steve strikes another fire arrow into the belly of a particularly persistent beast, when he suddenly hears a cry from the surrounding forest. He lets the giant beast fall to the ground with a hefty thud before running in the direction of the cry.

“Cap, where are you headed?” He hears Sam’s voice through the comms and momentarily loses focus, but that’s a whole can of worms he really can’t afford to open up, especially not right now, in the field.

“North, into the forest. I think I heard a shout.”

Steve runs into the greenery, the tight costume not allowing him as much flexibility as he would like, but he makes do. He doesn’t seem to have incurred any tears in embarrassing places just yet. As he runs closer, the cry gets louder, until Steve is face to face with a black-haired boy with tears streaming from his vivid green eyes.

“Captain America! Thank goodness you’re here, I was so scared that the monster was going to eat me!” The apparently British boy exclaims through his hiccups.

Steve kneels down to the boy, “Hey kid, you’re gonna be alright. Why don’t you tell me where your parents are so I can take you to them?”

“Oh, my parents are quite far away, nowhere you know of Captain.” Steve has no time even contemplate the fact that the boy’s face is now completely dry, not a tear streak in sight. Suddenly there’s a loud clap of thunder and a huge blond man abruptly falls from the sky and lands, with a surprisingly graceful, thud before standing as tall as a tower before Steve and the boy. 

“Son of Rogers! It is I, Thor, I have returned from Asgard with news of an impending attack from my-“

Whilst Steve kind of just stares dumbly at the tall blonde dressed in intricate yet intimidating metal armour and a bright red cape, the boy in his grasp shrugs his hand off and stands up defiantly. He places his small hands on his hips and a bitter scowl appears on his mouth.

“Hello brother, you’ve come quite a bit later than I was expecting.”

The giant blond, Thor, clenches his jaw and takes the boy by the collar of his t-shirt, the huge hammer in his other hand hovers inches above the boy’s shit-eating grin.

“Loki! What mischief have you been invoking on the people of Midgard this time? Have you not learnt your lesson?”

“Hey, let the kid go!” Steve stands up and raises his shield, ready to defend the boy against this brutish man, despite his strange behaviour.

“Yes Thor, please do let me go, I am rather fond of this garment, I pray you won’t stretch the fabric with your meaty hand.”

“Son of Rogers, this is no child for you to rescue, it is Loki using a glamour to disguise himself. Loki, show the captain your true form.”

The boy rolls his eyes, he looks rather bored more than anything else, and Steve isn't quite sure his initial assessment of the situation had been correct. Plus, there is a lot of chatter in the comms and things are getting pretty blurry in his head.

“Loki? You mean 2012 alien invasion Loki?”

“Aye, it would seem that my brother has not yet learned his lesson after the punishment that the All Father submitted him to.”

The boy’s facial expression transforms from aggressively indifferent and aloof to scarily resentful; he practically spits out his next words.

“That was no punishment, that was Odin executing the pain and torture he wished he could have millennia ago. He was glad for my suffering, not least because the cold blood running through my veins is not his.”

Thor releases his hold on the boy and his vivid blue eyes soften. “Loki, that is not true. Father loves us both, but what you did on Midgard and Jotunheim could not go without punishment. Yet still, you were afforded the dignity of a prince of Asgard despite the severity of your transgressions.”

“There is no dignity in losing one’s mouth Thor!”

“There’s no dignity in mass genocide _Loki_!”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Steve bravely steps between the two siblings because he senses there are some deep-seated issues coming to the surface in this argument and none of that is going to shed light on _what the fuck those huge creatures unleashed upon the capital_ were.

“You’re Loki right? You mind explaining what the hell those monsters were and why the hell you brought them here?”

It takes a moment for him to steer his angry gaze away from Thor, but soon Loki regards Steve, only mildly irritated by the interruption. Steve still can’t reconcile the sight of this young child, who can’t be much older than eight or nine physically, with the mental image of the demented alien sorcerer who tried to take over the planet a few years ago.

“They are called saehrimnir, and they’re here for reasons I know not.”

“Loki, you will tell us-“

“I’m telling you the truth. Get out of your dim-witted thoughts for one moment, brother of mine, and look around you. You think I _wish_ to remain in the form of a young, puny Midgardian? I, who can take the glamour of any creature and form I desire, am now stuck in the most useless shell I have ever inhabited. You think that I _want_ this?” Loki says, gesturing to himself angrily.

“Wait, so when you cried for help, that was genuine? You’re really stuck in a little boy’s body?” Steve asks, scratching his head a little, because _yeah_ , this is his life now.

“I’m not stuck in someone else’s body, I have taken another form. One which I do not wish to remain in much longer, but apparently I cannot escape it. Ever since that snivelling excuse for a-“ Loki stops mid rant and both Steve and Thor crowd around him, crossing their arms.

“Go on.” Steve says.

“Aye brother, we wish to hear just how you got stuck in this undesirable glamour. In fact, I’d also like to know how you came to inhabit it in the first place, considering the All Father stripped you of your powers.”

Before Loki can even open his mouth, he’s lifted into the sky and thrown twenty feet from where he had been standing. The Iron Man suit lands next to him, before reaching down and grabbing Loki by his pale, skinny, pre-pubescent arms.

“You’re the kid from the Hydra attack three weeks ago.” Tony somehow manages to convey his anger through the disembodied voice of the Iron Man suit. But evidently, that isn’t enough, because the billionaire scientist rips off the helmet to reveal a face marred by fury.

“Tell me where the fuck Steve is, or I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you, you piece of shit.” Tony hisses into Loki’s face, which is unsettling because the ancient antagonist is still wearing the face of a little boy.

“ _Oh_ …” Loki turns to Steve, his eyes going from imploring and curious, to wide with realisation within a matter of moments.

“Oh I see, this is quite interesting… What a conundrum you have here.”

Steve’s brows furrow, clearly this isn’t Loki’s doing after all. “What do you know about this?”

“Well Captain, it would appear that we have a common enemy. One which is responsible for your apparent displacement and my current form.”

“But what of the saehrimnir? You swear that this was not your doing?” Thor asks, still untrusting of his slippery, sly adoptive brother.

Loki merely rolls his eyes, clearly tired of that part of the conversation. “Yes, yes, it is as I already told you. I called for help because I was almost attacked by one of those beasts. I am completely useless in this form, all thanks to the wretched fool who left me this way!”

“And who left you in that form?”

“The same person who plucked you from your world and dropped you here.” The black-haired boy huffs and rubs at his arm where Iron Man still has a firm grip on him.

“It was Loki.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a hot minute! But I'm back with a new chapter featuring a new Steve. For those of you who are getting confused as to who is where, don't fear, it'll all be clarified soon! Please be sure to comment and let me know of your theories!

It has been one month, three days and 12 hours since the operative arrived in unfamiliar territory, having received no mission parameters, no instructions or demands by any handlers, no purpose for his presence. He is crouched in the shadows of the abandoned drug den he’s been calling home. He is in an unpleasant part of New York, but even in the shadows he can feel the sweltering heat, a constant claustrophobic presence in the height of summer.

Living in the abandoned apartment block has not been totally terrible, certainly not the worst structure he has found himself inhabiting. He had access to food, some decent clothing from a local shelter’s donation bin, and he was even able to resurrect an old television and watch Family Feud re-runs. Compared to Siberia, the was practically luxury.

But now it is time to leave. The soldier had searched every inch of the city for any of the known safe-houses Hydra used, but none of them seemed to exist. Some were safe-houses belonging to other networks, which had made for several unfortunate confrontations. Having scoured the city to no avail, the soldier prepares to leave the sweltering heat and head north to continue the search for his purpose.

He takes stock of his personal arsenal; seven knives, not his favourite kind but they’ll do; three guns, a decent stock of ammo and two syringes of some nasty stuff. It’s plenty to work with. He quickly works the weapons into his outfit, a non-descript blue t-shirt under a newly acquired grey hoody which hides the various bullet holes in the t-shirt. His worn navy jeans don’t have any bullet holes, which he finds himself feeling thankful for because he’s rather fond of them.

That in itself is strange; the soldier hasn’t felt a fondness for anything in a very long time.

He knows the hoodie may look suspicious, considering the stifling heat, but he’s pretty sure it’ll raise less questions than a gleaming metal appendage, so he’s not too hung up on it.

The soldier leaves the dirty den for the final time and steps into the shadows of the streets, blending into the flurry of people with faultless efficiency. He’s walking down 45th street, approaching Hell’s Kitchen, when he sees her. She’s of medium height, her dark hair and skin glisten in the sunshine and under her hospital scrubs is an evidently pregnant belly. She’s beautiful, just _snatches_ the soldier’s attention. His eyes discreetly search around him, trying to see if anyone else is as drawn to her as he is. But no, people continue to bustle around the streets of New York, their day seemingly uninterrupted by the presence of this, this _angel_ among men.

The soldier is startled out of his reverie when a middle-aged man bumps into him in classic ‘I’m walking here!’ fashion. Shadow to shadow he slowly stalks closer to the woman whose hand is gently rubbing her belly as she talks on the phone on the blistering sidewalk outside of the hospital. He shouldn’t be this close, he should turn around and leave her alone. There is no evidence that he knows her, or that she’s a target for Hydra. But the operative can’t seem to help himself, he’s drawn to her; every bone in his broken body is being called to her. Suddenly he has no desire to leave New York, or even stray too far from 45th Street. He has found his new mission, his new purpose.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there's no way that after so long I'd leave you guys with such a small taster, here's another chapter to keep you going. Any theories you have over who is where, let me know in the comments! :)

There’s a handful of things Stephanie knows for sure that this point. Firstly, she most certainly is not in Kansas anymore. Secondly, the man she is with, this version of James Barnes, is still kind of the Winter Soldier and very much a wanted man. Thirdly, she really underestimated just how far _her_ James had come. And finally, this world has a Tony Stark and even in _here_ he is a rich, white, entitled man whose genius is largely _unparalleled_ (some pun intended). The man in question is staring blankly at Stephanie, his hands seemingly unsure of what to do in the face of a deadly, world-renowned assassin and the female version of his kind-of-sort-of father figure.

“Err Jarvis, you can see them too right?”

Stephanie is expecting the response from the British, incorporeal voice from an unidentifiable source, but her eyes glance upwards nonetheless.

“Sir, would you like me to call in the rest of the team? You promised you would alert them should any significant developments in your search for Captain Rogers occur. This would seem to be a significant development.”

“Wait!” Stephanie holds up her hands in a sign of innocence. “We’re not here to attack you. Before you call the team, just hear us out.”

Tony looks between her and the Winter Soldier and blinks. “Ok, explain away. But just so you know, I can have Jarvis take you both down in a heartbeat, so no funny business.”

James scoffs and mutters “If I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t have that long.”

Tony scowls “What the fuck do you think you’re doing showing your face here after you killed-“

“Okay, can we just… stop. Please.” Stephanie turns to James and raises a brow. He huffs in response but mumbles an apology. Tony doesn’t look particularly forgiving but there’s bigger, more important things to address, so they’ll both just have to deal.

“Look, Tony, my name is Stephanie Rogers and I believe that I’m stuck in an alternate reality where I’m a dude, James is still the Winter Soldier and the Twilight Saga is a thing apparently.” The last point she’d discovered upon researching vampires and whether they are a _thing_ in this world. They aren’t, but _that_ sure is. If only her world was as enamoured with the supernatural.

Tony cocks his head to the side, “Jarvis…”

“Ms Stephanie shows no visible signs of lying. If what she says is true, theoretically it can be proven with a DNA sample and by scanning her electromagnetic wave frequency.”

“Err, I’m not a huge fan of needles, you’re gonna have to just take my word for it.”

“You seriously expect me to believe anything your saying with no proof?”

Stephanie folds her arms and stands her ground. “I can’t let you take a sample of my blood, can’t risk it getting into the wrong hands.”

Tony folds his arms too, ready to defend the request, but Stephanie doesn’t give him the chance to retort. “Look Stark, where I’m from you’re a pretty smart guy, and from the looks of things, that’s the case in this world too. So, if anyone can get me back to my world, it’s you. It has to be you, because I for one don’t want to have to grovel to Reed Richards of all people.”

Tony visibly cringes at the thought.

“And besides,” Stephanie steps towards him, her eyes locked into his, psychologically disarming him from just her stance and what is left unsaid. _Trust me, I won’t hurt you. Please believe me_. She knows it’s cheating, using her vampire compulsion skills on him, but they don’t have _time_ to argue and fight over this. She needs to get back to her Avenger’s Tower, like, _yesterday_.

“if I am here in your world, that means that your Steve is probably stuck in my world. I’m the key to getting him back where he belongs. All you have to do is help me get home.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Tony says “Jarvis, call the others.” Stephanie senses James’ step forward and stops him with the raise of a hand.

Tony continues with his eyes narrowed. “Tell them there’s been a significant development in our search for Steve.”

“Will do Sir.”

“And if either of you try anything, I don’t care how fast you are, I’m taking you both down with me.”

Stephanie nods obligingly, “Duly noted.”

* * *

 

Stephanie hasn’t fed in a while, and it is starting to affect her quite substantially. She is becoming increasingly sensitive to the smell of warm blood and her throat is near burning with the thirst. She can hardly stand it. Last week Clint had walked into the room with an unbandaged paper cut and she almost lost her shit. All the members of this world’s Avengers are starting to resemble blood bags to her. She hates herself for it, but it’s what she is now, _who_ she is. She can’t fight this, not only would she lose, but so would a lot of innocent people.

She decides to sneak out when it’s not too dark outside, it makes her feel less like an urban myth. This way she can pretend that she’s heading into the bar on 66th Street to meet a friend, and not to lure in an unsuspecting victim. Perhaps she’ll even catch a bad guy, some sort of criminal or something. That usually makes her feel better about herself.

She’s sitting at the bar, scouting out the menu, the _bar’s menu_ not the one she’s already got in mind, when someone takes the seat beside her and a familiar voice orders a vodka and coke, _hold the coke_.

“What are you doing here?” Stephanie asks, turning towards James who she finds is staring straight at her. He shrugs, a very casual human thing that he has been doing more and more lately.

“I come here sometimes, to get some air. The Tower can get a little… claustrophobic”

Stephanie nods in agreement, “Yeah, it’s weird right. How such a big space can still feel small when it’s a prison.”

James looks down and stays quiet, when the bartender gives him his drink, _basically_ a double vodka shot, he knocks it back in one fluid motion, exposing the long line of his pale neck. Stephanie’s aching fangs act as a reminder for what _she’s_ doing in the bar.

“This bar is the only one in my permitted vicinity.” James mutters bitterly.

“Look, I know I’ve already said this but, I’m so sorry. I should never have brought you here with me.”

James is already shaking his head, refusing to hear another word.

“I already told you, I’m here because I want to be. It was time I stopped running from the things I’ve done. This, this is luxury compared to what I deserve. I should be rotting in Guantanamo.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t deserve this, it wasn’t your fault. Hydra controlled you, they made you into a weapon.”

“How do you know it wasn’t my fault, how do you know I didn’t like killing those people.”

Stephanie instinctively reaches out and takes James’ metal hand. She’s well versed in this conversation, she’s had plenty of practice with the James from her world. He flinches as she touches the hidden limb they both know to be deadly.

“Because, James, I know you.”

“No you don’t,” he whispers, “I’m not him.”

Now Stephanie is reaching for his face with her other hand, and locking her eyes onto his sullen grey orbs. _God,_ is he beautiful. James Barnes is as gorgeous as he his broken, and it seems no matter what plane of existence Stephanie is in, she is doomed to fall for him. 

“I know you’re not him. But I still know you. You saved me in Bulgaria and you helped stop those men from blowing up the hospital. You’re not a monster James, because if you were, you wouldn’t feel this crippling guilt inside of you. You’d feel nothing.”

Somehow, they’ve gotten much closer, and Stephanie can now feel James’ breath on her face when he speaks.

“I did feel nothing… before.”

“What about now?”

“Now I…” His flesh hand meets the curve of Stephanie’s hip and gently tugs her closer, until she’s stepping between his legs. Her eyes never leave his.

“I feel a lot of things.”

Inevitably, they kiss. And when their lips come together, there’s no magic, or fourth-of-July fireworks, just pure hunger and lust and want. It’s like they’re both literally aching for it, so much so that Stephanie doesn’t even think to explain away just how she gets them back to the Tower so quickly.

Clothes fly off in a flurry of movement the moment they get to her floor. James hands, both metal and flesh, seem to want to touch and explore every inch of Stephanie’s skin. Because James’ hasn’t touched human flesh just for pleasure in a very, very long time, and now he can, he wants to savour every moment of it. In a similar way, Stephanie’s lips latch onto James’ skin. She licks, suckles and kisses it; she’s got a taste and now she’s intoxicated.

“James, I should-“

“Call me Bucky.” Ja- _Bucky_ interrupts, his voice low and hoarse. _Jesus_ , that’s hot.

“Bucky, we need to stop.” Stephanie says, although the moment the words leave her mouth, her lips attach to Bucky’s collarbone, sending a chill which she feels vibrate down his spine.

“We don’t _need_ to do anything. But if you want to stop…” Bucky reluctantly removes his hands away from Stephanie’s body, which is really unbearable. She shouldn’t have said anything. Why do they have to stop anyway?

So Stephanie places Bucky’s metal hand back onto her hip and his flesh one back onto her breast. They don’t stop, not when their underwear come off and Stephanie is straddling Bucky as he enters her. Not even when she bounces on his lap, the feeling of him inside of her making her see stars and let incoherent babble escape her lips, when she takes a break from kissing him and lets him come up for air. But then she finds herself leaning forwards, resting one hand on Bucky’s muscular back while the other snakes around his neck, holding the base of his skull still. Her lips find his jugular and she licks the pulse point gently, priming him for the bite before her fangs extend and-

“Shit!”

Stephanie pushes away from Bucky and darts to the other side of the room. He’s breathing heavily and running his metal hand through his messy hair as he blinks confusedly at her sudden departure.

“What just happened?”

“Bucky I- we can’t… I really shouldn’t have-“

“I know you’re a vampire.”

Stephanie freezes suddenly feels the need to cover her exposed body. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, another new favourite action, but a small smile forms on his lips.

“In Sofia, you were injured, dazed. You kept talking about needing blood, so I got some from the hospital.”

Stephanie gasped, disgusted with herself but Bucky raised his hand in an attempt to halt her thoughts. “Relax, I took some blood bags, not the hostages. I figured vampire or no, any version of Steve Rogers is gonna have some kinda conscience.”

“So… you knew? All this time?”

Bucky simply nods, “It was obvious you didn’t want to talk about it so I didn’t bring it up, but lately I noticed you’ve been avoiding people.”

“So you followed me to the bar?” Bucky shrugs again, but this time it’s much less endearing.

“Bucky! I could have killed you!”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“How do you know?”

Bucky raises a brow cheekily, like this is _funny_ to him. Like risking his life with a potentially deadly monster is a _game_. He gets up off the bed, all 6ft 5inches of his gloriously naked body. Coming towards Stephanie, instead of running far, far away from her as he should be doing.

“Because I know you.”

He takes her hand, kisses her knuckles before wrapping her arm around his neck.

“This isn’t a game Bucky.” Stephanie whispers, swallowing the lump in her burning throat.

“I’m not playing games. You need to drink blood to survive,” He softly kisses her lips. “I have plenty of it. Plus, I’m more durable than anyone else you could pick.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He strokes her hair and kisses her again. “Then don’t. I want to be inside of you when you bite me.”

It’s her turn to shiver with pleasure. He reaches down and picks her up, holding her against the wall as he re-enters her. She gasps at the feeling of him inside her again. Her fangs ache as he exposes his neck to her. She doesn’t fight it this time. She leans in, fangs extended, and pierces the expanse of pale skin with a clean bite.

“Fuck.” Bucky groans and his rhythm falters as she begins to drink from him.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

“That was really stupid.”

There’s a pause and the room is quiet, until he hears a whack which is only met with a chuckle.

“I’m serious, you idiot, you could have gotten hurt real bad.”

Sam’s smooth voice interrupts the quiet of the night, he sounds exasperated more than anything.

“You’re lucky he’s not here right now, he’d hit you upside the head, fool. Almost getting yourself killed for a damn cat. Not even a dog, or a bunny, a damn _cat_.”

Whoever he’s talking to, they’ve clearly had this discussion multiple times. Steve is standing behind the kitchen door which has been left slightly ajar, allowing him to see Sam, in all his 5am glory, through the slither of an opening. Steve has been there, listening to Sam talk to this largely unresponsive individual for _just_ long enough for it to probably be considered creepy.

Steve has some interesting feelings towards Sam Wilson. The Sam from his world is amazing; he’s kind, sensitive, smart, charming… just amazing. He had helped Steve so much when he first left the Avengers after Natasha’s death. He’d helped him transition from a lost soldier with no war to fight in, to a functioning member of society. And so of course, _it was a given_ , that Steve would fall for him.

Romance had not been in his cards for the longest time. When he’d first woken up from his deep sleep in the ice, he’d seen Howard again. The man who had spent the rest of his waking moments after the war searching for Steve in the depths of the ocean. He was divorced, and he had somewhat neglected his son, but from the moment he saw Steve, he looked like the happiest man alive. Howard was Steve’s connection to his past. He helped the World War II veteran in his transition from a man out of his time to a soldier with a purpose again. Steve had fallen for him too. But that was different, Howard had reciprocated his feelings.

Now the captain stands outside the kitchen door, not quite knowing what to do. Does he go in and interrupt the obviously private moment between Sam and this other person? Or does he walk away and pretend that he’s not creepy and that this never happened. Actually, it seems pretty clear what Steve should do.

But as luck would have it, just as he walks away from door, it opens revealing Sam in a plain white t-shirt and some plaid boxers. Next to him is what can only be a ghost. The ghost of James Barnes, Steve’s best friend, his brother in arms from World War II. He is standing next to Sam, his head cocked to the side like _Steve_ is the anomaly in this situation. That’s when he spots it. It’s glistening in the dim light of dawn, Steve lets the glare blind his eyes as fury envelops him. This man, this ghost, is the Winter Soldier. The monster, the weapon, that killed his friend. And he’s wearing the face of Bucky Barnes.

“Err Steve, you okay there buddy?” Sam asks, slowly backing away from the fuming blonde.

“You killed her. You killed them all!” Steve spits, slowly approaching the seemingly confused assassin.

“Wha- huh?”

“Steve, man, this isn’t your world’s Bucky, remember? He’s not-“

“Stand down Sam.”

“No- Steve don’t!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so short, just wanted to give you an idea of what's going on behind the scenes. Next one's a big one promise!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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